Drabble Me This
by MrsRen
Summary: What could happen when our favorite characters when they're thrown into several tropes? In short drabbles, and snapshots, I bring to you romance, humor, and hopefully every emotion possible.
1. Chapter 1

**So, in the past twenty four hours I've discovered that drabbles, and short snippets are ridiculously fun to write. And while I'm going to post my actual oneshots separately, I'm going to compile my drabbles, and short things! Most of these will cut off at 1k, but I'm sure there will be a few that go over. I shared a post on tumblr, and I've been getting prompts, so I figured I might as well! These aren't to be expanded, and each will stand on it's own.**

 **The majority of these will be dramione, but if I get a request for another pairing, I'll fulfill it and tag appropriately.**

 **Pairing: Dramione.**

 **75\. Bed Sharing. 86. I didn't mean to turn you on.**

* * *

Granger was always so fucking innocent, and it drove him batty. With her Ministry approved skirts - which could now be shorter, damn it all -, they always seemed to inch up the back of her thighs, exposing creamy skin that made his mouth dry.

In all his plans for his life, both the ones made for him, and the ones he'd made, he'd never expected to be working at the Ministry. Much less as an auror, and even less as the partner of the Brightest Witch of Their Age.

As it was, fate was a cruel mistress, and even she needed a laugh from time to time. So when they were sent undercover in Muggle London, something he hadn't wanted to do from the start, of course they only had one bed in the hotel room. They were playing the part of a couple afterall, and as Hermione tossed her bags into the chair, their disguises from Polyjuice fell.

"I could transfigure a bed." He told her, withdrawing his wand. It had only been moments spent alone in her company, and he was ready to violate direct orders from the head auror.

Don't use any kind of magic, they told him. Well, clearly they had never spent extended time with a woman they wanted to shag. Asking him to share a bed, and not have an awkward surprise when morning rolled around was barmy.

She waved her hand, slipping her blouse off. Granger had several, but the blouse he'd dubbed the 'keyhole one' because his rational brain failed whenever she stepped into a room. Just like the name, there was a keyhole in the front, and with him being so much taller, it wasn't hard to see the tops of her breasts if he looked down. Not that he frequently tried to steal a look at Granger.

"No, we're both adults, Malfoy. We can share the bed, but if you're uncomfortable I'll sleep in the chair." Granger told him, dressed in a tanktop with too thin straps, and denims. She slid her pants down her legs, grabbing a pair of silk shorts to put on.

He only saw her knickers for a moment, but he wanted to tear them off of her with his teeth.

"No," Draco told her, balking at the thought of her thinking he was uncomfortable. "That's fine, but just don't cuddle up to me in the middle of the night." He bit out, dressing a pajama bottoms, and discarding his shirt.

He smirked when her eyes lingered a little longer than they should have as he climbed into the bed. As she settled into the opposite side, he reached over and turned off the lamp.

* * *

In the morning, Malfoy woke to the feel of Granger rolling her hips, and to the feel of his cock stiffening against the curve of her arse. Groaning, his palm came down to rest on her hip. Fully waking up though, his eyes were wide. "Granger," he hissed, pushing her forward.

This was not happening, could not be happening.

And then she moaned at the loss of him. "Malfoy?" She gasped then, sitting up and in a comical accident, one that she rectified immediately, her tanktop was pulled down, and her breasts showing.

Faced with her rosy, ruby tipped nipples in his face, Malfoy thought he stayed rather calm. "You were grinding against my dick." He muttered, and her face heated up. "Granger, don't freak out – it's not a big deal. You were asleep."

"I could ask for you to have a different partner if you like." She muttered, folding her arms, and under her breath she whispered that her own body had betrayed her.

His eyebrows drew together. "What? Absolutely not." Malfoy told her, patting her shoulder awkwardly, and wincing as he shifted.

Granger's gaze dropped to the heavy erection that was so clearly visible through his pants. "I didn't mean to turn you on." She said, grinning ear to ear, and her arms falling from their defensive stance.

With a smirk, Malfoy saw his opening. "Well, you did, so what do you plan to do about that, Granger?" He'd already lifted her into his lap before she could reply.

* * *

 **If you want to request something to fill my boredom while I work on WIPs, you can visit my tumblr at mrsren96, OR you can just tell me what you want. Feedback makes my world go round if you feel so inclined. This could update several times a week, or not at all. :) Thanks for reading me!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I just fulfilled this on tumblr, so crossposting now.**

 **Pairing: Dramione.**

 **Tropes: Royalty AU & Everybody Knows/Mistaken For a Couple**

* * *

Hermione Nott was used to assumptions, everyone had them. Most of the giggling witches in her father's court had long since decided that the rumor _must_ be true. Of course it had been announced at her birth, only four months after the new Lord Malfoy was born.

Was anyone surprised by the turnout? For her to marry into the Malfoy family, a Pureblood family whose roots traveled back as surely as her own, it was everything. Honor was important. Accepting choices that were made for her that were for the best of the family.

Except, _except -_ Draco Malfoy was a rampaging jerk, and she swore to Merlin and Morgana she would not have him.

* * *

Sorted into Gryffindor in her first year of Hogwarts, she didn't have to see him much. Though every once in a while she would spot a flash of blond hair in the crowd. He was in Slytherin just like every Malfoy before him, and her brother was sorted along with him.

While she knew the topic of their arranged marriage wasn't a hot topic for Theo, and Draco, it was for quite literally everyone else. In the first year she hardly talked to him. Her father wasn't content to force them together just yet considering they were only eleven.

* * *

The second year was where they hit a snag. They were always willing to ignore each other, and then Cormac McLaggen happened. As the daughter of a king, of course her classmates left her alone. She was never on the receiving end of a hex, or a prank despite being called the swottiest swot of them all.

But McLaggen had never been the brightest, and it was in the middle of a Potions class that he'd flung a potion _onto_ her.

Malfoy pounced, drawing his wand from his robes, and casting a furious, " _Stupefy!"_

Rendered unconscious, Hermione didn't know of Malfoy's loud proclamation that no one was to hurt his betrothed.

* * *

The small mark made her life in Hogwarts that much worse, with everyone teasing her of how she _was_ engaged, and at least Malfoy seemed to be in love with her. Grumbling to herself, she'd cornered him on the quidditch pitch after they'd stomped Gryffindor.

"They're still talking about it." She hissed in third year, finally unable to stand it any longer. "Malfoy, you have to set this straight."

"And what do you propose I do, Hermione?" Her name slid right off the tip of his tongue, sounding more charming than it should have. "Shall I just owl our fathers and request they tear up the bloody contract?" Malfoy hissed, leaning toward her. "Am I really the worst thing you can imagine?"

She skipped over that, believing it was only his wounded pride. "I don't care who you choose, but you need to take someone to Hogsmeade so the entirety of Hogwarts will get off my back!"

* * *

She'd always known he was attractive. With immaculate robes, and blond hair that always held her gaze, and eyes that reminded her of storms - of course she'd known.

But she'd never paid it any mind, and the Yule Ball shouldn't have been any different in their fourth year. Preoccupied with the anger at Ron, and leaving Krum to dance with Hannah Abbott, crying was how Malfoy found her.

"Hey," he began softly, sitting next to her. "What happened?"

"Ron." She muttered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. "Shouldn't you be with Parkinson?"

"I saw you run out. You can't expect me not to come after you." Awkwardly, he slid an arm around her shoulders. "Weasley isn't worth the tears. Come on." He stood, holding his hand out.

Taking it even though she wasn't sure why, Hermione told him, "I'm not going back out there to dance, Malfoy."

He shrugged. "That's okay. We can dance here."

* * *

In their fifth year, they weren't quite as bothered by the teasing. Not after there had been a picture in the Daily Prophet of them dancing.

Because they had a secret.

* * *

She didn't know why she wanted to hide it, and neither did he. At least until they realized on a lazy Saturday afternoon in the Room of Requirement that they weren't ready to admit everyone had been right.

"You're so stubborn." He sighed, tipping her face up and kissing her softly. "Ridiculously even."

She grinned.

* * *

In seventh year, it was harder to hide. Between her course load - which was much more than anyone else signed up for -, and Draco's - who attended the same classes to be closer, but under the guise that she wasn't going to outdo him for marks.

Their fathers were already gearing up for damage control, for how to put their children together instead of against each other. But one day toward the end of the year as they waited for their final grades, they'd found out.

Her father was willing to let Draco out of the marriage contract if he wanted to be. For all he'd known, Hermione had spent the last eighteen years despising Malfoy, and he thought he was _helping._

So when Lucius Malfoy agreed to have Draco marry Astoria Greengrass, all hell broke loose.

"I mean if you didn't want to marry me-" Hermione started, standing in the middle of the quidditch pitch with him.

"What the bloody hell are you on about?" He growled. "I've never wanted to marry anyone else!"

"You never had the choice!" She spluttered. "Just if - she's going to be around you more, and I want you to have the choice. I hated having decisions made for me. Don't you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll tell you my decision tomorrow over breakfast then. Just know that it's the exact same as it's always been."

* * *

The following morning, she was buttering her toast when Ron's eyes widened across from her. "Uh, Hermione?" He said, his mouth full of food.

She turned, coming face to face with her boyfriend as he lowered to one knee. Turning around quickly to fully face him, her mouth died, and her butter knife slipped from her fingers.

Behind them Astoria Greengrass was surely furious, but Hermione didn't look. "Draco, what are you doing? We're already engaged, you know." She laughed, but grinned from ear to ear.

He smirked, taking her hand. "Maybe, but since you're all about choices, this is mine. I have never wanted to marry anyone else. I have loved you since before I knew what love was, and it would make me the happiest man alive if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife."

He pulled a box from his robes, flipping open a box to show a white gold band, with a raised sapphire in the middle. "You got sapphire." She murmured, raising her fingers to her lips. "That's my favorite."

"I'm not always nice; sometimes I'm a jerk, and sometimes you'll feel the need to put me back in my place, but -"

She nodded. "Yes. The answer is yes." Barely giving him time to slide the ring onto her finger, old magic washing over her, Hermione launched herself into his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello dear readers. This was not a request. It's me putting out a Drabble style prologue for something that is coming as a WIP.**

 **Dramione Crime AU. Draco Malfoy is a hitman. Hermione has not made an appearance.**

* * *

 _November 2nd, 2012_

 _Godric's Hollow_

Poised on a roof across from the quaint, brick two story, he lifted the cigarette to his lips. Balancing it while he flipped the lighter closed, tucking it into his pocket, he watched the boy carefully. He wasn't home alone. From what he'd witnessed over the last two days, he was rarely left alone. Perhaps his aunt feared he would kill himself so he could join his parents, the man wasn't sure.

It was how he would have felt if he'd watched his parents systematically gunned down in the center of London after a school event. Oh, he knew all about the boy's life, of how he had lived in this house for the last fifteen years, of how his father was an established police officer who kept digging into the criminal underground despite being warned of what would happen.

One might say the married couple earned what they got, but he wasn't sure they were the sort who earned to be filled full of holes. Exhaling smoke, he glanced down at the black, zippered bag. It was nestled in the snow, a heavy weight against his boot. It would have only taken a moment to pull the rifle from it, to move into position, and only a breath to pull the trigger that he was so used to.

Flicking the ash off the end of the cigarette, he shook his head. Riddle was a smart man, and while his followers weren't the brightest, he sincerely doubted this boy had gotten a good look at the gunman.

Still, a hit was a hit, and if it ever got out he had even _thought_ of faking results, the outcome would be disastrous. Yet here he stood, surely the first Malfoy in a century to waver in the face of a job.

Grimacing, he knocked the toe of his boot against the bricks, the snow crunching beneath him. Maybe the boy wasn't much younger than him, but he'd seen the papers. Fuck, the entire city had published an article over it.

 _Death Eater Task Force Lead James Potter, and wife, Lily Potter slain._

Or the one that caught his attention in the first place: _Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived._

From birth, from a young age Malfoy had known what his life would be spent doing. Murder for hire, carrying out hits for high profile targets.

And this child didn't compare to those. Sighing, and smashing the cigarette below his boot, he hauled the bag over his shoulder. "This will be a hell of a cover up." He muttered to himself, making his way to the ladder.

And Draco Malfoy knew Tom Riddle would have his head if he ever discovered what he had done.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: This is a drabble for a harmony plunny. Harry Potter x Hermione Granger. Post War, Marriage Law.**

 **Prompt: What are the three things he could never tell her.**

* * *

He'd thought she'd known.

How could she not? As the world was going to shit around them - they _were_ trapped in the middle of a war. She was a constant, and maybe she had been for a long time. Despite the times he'd come down hard on her in school, or when she reported his firebolt that had come from a suspicious sender.

Yet Hermione was brilliant. So how couldn't she realize that it was so much more than the mutual brokenness that had led him to her on the night Ron had abandoned them?

Harry wasn't a stranger to finding comfort in someone, but it was - it was explosive. The combination of her skin sliding against his, or how her nails bit into his shoulders as he slid into her. The sound of her whimpering in his ear, blindly reaching for her wand to cast a silencing charm on the tent - he couldn't forget it.

So standing across from the pair of them, being so sure to look away from her whenever she glanced his way left the vilest taste in his mouth. There was a ring on the third finger of her left hand, a small stone that was centered in the middle, and it glinted beneath the bright lights of the Ministry.

Harry knew it was Hermione and Ron's last ditch effort to avoid the marriage law, something that had been coming for months but was only just coming into effect in society. Yet they weren't married, merely engaged by the time Kingsley Shacklebolt deemed it time to announce the wildly unpopular law.

He barely heard the minister's voice carrying over the silent crowd. Ginny's arm brushed against his, a small smile curving her lips. The youngest Weasley was so certain their names would be called together, and it made his stomach roll. To be paired with any woman in the room would make him miserable, but he couldn't have _her._

As Kingsley made his way through the pairings - some disgruntled shouts rang out, but he paid them no mind -, Harry realized he would eventually have to come to terms with it all. He would never be permitted to tell her how he loved her, certainly more than his best friend ever would. Or that when it was time to make a choice to come back after being stuck down in the Forbidden Forest, it might have been for the sake of the world, but it was equally for her.

Or that, well he was backtracking, that when Ron snogged her in the Chamber of Secrets it had felt like more of a betrayal than anything.

"Harry Potter," his attention was called up by Kingsley's long pause, and the way his brows furrowed as he stared at the slip of paper. Swallowing hard, he announced, " and Hermione Granger."


	5. Chapter 5

**LadyKenz made me do it**

"You make me feel…"

Her breath caught. Hermione nudged him. "Go on,"

The war was coming to a head, the castle crumbling around them. Draco shook his head, clenching his wand. "We can't do this. We won't survive."

She tilted her head to the side. "Draco, we — what are you…?"

It was not the first time he'd trained his wand on her. "You make me feel like every goodbye I've ever head, said all at once."

Her eyes shot open, filling with hot tears, recognizing the haunting spell he began. "I love you."

He nodded, mouthing the same. "Obliviate."


	6. Chapter 6

**Prompt from Felgia_Star on tumblr. "Please, I just...I just really need some space right now."**

* * *

The words were rattling around in his head like a god forsaken echo. People don't just say it, not unless they were about to break things off. Which they weren't, definitely not! Granger was an upfront sort of witch, one that didn't beat around the bust and if she had something to say - which she didn't! - she wouldn't just brush him off.

Yet she had.

"Please, I just….I really need some space right now."

He slid his fingers through his hair, biting down on his lip hard. Just what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Merlin, exactly how much space did one need when she put it like that?

"Draco?"

Had only a few moments passed? "Hmm?"

"Did you hear a word I just said?" she rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips, a move well known by him. "Honestly, you just stared into space after I started -"

His eyes widened. If she was still here, then… "Are you not breaking up with me?"

Whiskey coloured eyes shot up. "Am I what?" she blurted. "Where did you get that idea?" Hermione took a quick step forward, brushing hair from his eyes.

Draco cleared his throat. "You said you wanted space, so I -"

Her laughter didn't soothe his bruised pride. "Draco, I'm not breaking up with you. Honestly, I can't believe you would be worried about that. I only needed a bit to myself. I need to prepare resumes, and - why are you staring at me?"

"You don't say 'I need some space' to fill out resumes, you dense fuck."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll read over dating etiquette."


	7. Chapter 7

**Prompt: I could corrupt you. It would be easy. Prompt from LadyKenz347, and honestly, I kind of like this and could see myself expanding.**

* * *

Sixth year was meant to be her year before her life spiralled. A war was coming, and there was no way to avoid that.

It was still her year, she thought as she was pressed to the wall of the broom closet. His body was hard against hers, his lips pressed against her throat.

She whimpered as his hand slipped under her skirt. This was just stress relief for both of them, but it was important to note she knew what his sixth year meant for him, the task and the mark. "I'll miss you."

"If only it didn't end."


	8. Chapter 8

**Drabble inspired by a post in the FB group Strictly Dramione. The bare bones of this prompt is that the character is believed to have grey eyes, only in reality, they have one grey, and one blue. And you can only tell when you're up close, like kiss your enemy close. -slaps hands together-**

 **This is just a short little drabble before I work on a WIP. It is not beta'd. It may be garbage.**

 **Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger.**

 **Rating: T**

* * *

Hermione Granger did not put up with this sort of nonsense. Honestly, it was ridiculous. It had been bad enough over the Christmas season. What with magically charmed mistletoe that would trap you until you had a decent snog - she was grateful that January was calmer. It was a new year. Students were still clinging - mostly - to their New Year's resolutions, most of them either to excel academically, or improve their physical health. —

And then there was Valentine's Day, a day that was more or less the same as every other blasted day of the year. It was fine, she reassured herself. Sure, it would be a pain to break up couples that were cooped up in alcoves, or broom closets, but as a prefect she had no other option.

Too lost in her own thoughts, Hermione did not notice someone snapping her name. Not until she collided with a hard body and hands flew to her shoulders. "What in the —"

"Oh, fuck, you've really done it now, Granger."

Her head snapped up at his voice, and she swallowed hard. "Oh, stuff it. Honestly, you could have moved out of the way just as well, Malfoy." She moved to shove past him, which he let her do. Hermione slammed into an invisible wall, and her features pinched in frustration. She whirled on him. "What have you done?"

He gaped at her. "What have _I_ done? Do you believe I would ever want to be trapped with you, you spectacular bint?"

She flinched as he stepped toward her, towering over her and glaring at her. "I apologize. I just…" well, she couldn't really say that his status as a former Death Eater set her on edge. "I overeacted, and I apologize." Hermione cleared her throat, and smoothed her skirt. "What's going on then?"

"Have you not heard?"

"Would I be asking if I had?"

He clenched his jaw. "Are you always like this?"

Hermione shrugged. "Probably."

Malfoy dragged a hand down his face. "Well, in that case, let me intoduce you to the newest product made me Weasley's Wizard Wheeze's. It's a modified mistletoe," he pointed over his head, and she saw the glittery heart hanging over them, "and it won't let us out until we snog."

Her mouth fell open. "I can't snog you."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, the spell wears off in seventy-two hours, and I'd rather snog you than be stuck here."

"I'll punch you in the nose if you even try." Hermione warned. "A professor will come along —"

Malfoy chuckled. "Even if they do, it won't do any good. They've been battling this for the last week just as well. Headmistress McGonagall is more likely to tell you to snog me and get it over with."

Her mouth dried. "Just a peck on the lips and it will be over then?"

"I wish. Unfortunately they're quite crafty, and unless both of us are satisfied, it won't release us." he said with a shrug. "So, will you break my nose if I snog you?"

Hermione sighed. She _did_ have NEWTs she could be studying for, and bugger, she was due to meet Neville in the library any minute. "No, I won't break your nose." she murmured, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Relax," Malfoy said softly. "I realize how annoying this is, but I'm not going to hurt you."

She wanted to say how she knew that, but she was focused on something else. Hermione's eyes widened. "I always thought your eyes were grey."

He laughed, cupping her face. "Oh, right. Well, they're not." Malfoy didn't leave her a chance to say another word as then his lips were on hers, and his fingers were sliding into her bushy curls.

His lips were soft, that was the first thing she noticed. And then it was the way his tongue traced the seam of her lips and the way his heavy palm slid down her back, pressing her to him. And then it was over just as quickly as it had begun.

* * *

Hermione tried her best not to think about it. Afterall, it was only a chance encounter and it wasn't as if anything else would come of it. Her eyes still strayed toward the Slytherin table more often than not. And on Valentine's Day, the little habit bit her in the arse.

Ron and Harry didn't - couldn't - visit often due to auror training. Still, Harry made it to see Ginny, and Ron tagged along.

"Why is Malfoy staring at you?" Ron snapped, his wand had twitching.

She lifted her head, arching an eyebrow curiously. Malfoy's gaze was on her, flicking from her to Ron, and his lips were set in a scowl. "Perhaps it's because we were strapped beneath one of those modified mistletoes." she shrugged. "He probably still thinks we're dating."

All of the colour drained from Ron's face. "He snogged you?" His voice echoed through out the hall, and all eyes were on them.

Hermione could have hit him. "I think it was a mutual thing."

Ginny, ever the one to shake things up, asked, "Are his eyes as grey up close? He's a right prick, but they're pretty."

Hermione swallowed her pumpkin juice, buying herself a bit of time. "No, actually. One is blue, and one is grey. If anything, it's even prettier than I would have thought."

As Ron turned away from her, muttering that she was fraternizing with a traitor, Hermione looked across the hall again. Malfoy was smirking, his angry scowl gone, and he tilted his head toward the large double doors.

He mouthed, 'leave?'

And Hermione nodded.


	9. Chapter 9

**Inspired by a tumblr post shared in Strictly Dramione**

* * *

He stepped through the Floo, brushing soot and powder from his hair. Expecting to see Granger sprawled out across the sofa with her nose in a book, Draco frowned when she was no where in sight.

"Granger?" He called.

Nothing.

Arching an eyebrow, he noticed there was a book tossed into the floor. It hadn't been set down gently, but thrown and it has landed with its pages crinkled, and the spine broken.

Draco swallowed his laugh. He made his way through the flat, coming to a stop in the door way of their kitchen. "Why are you standing on that chair?"

Granger stood on top of one of the chairs that she insisted they buy when they moved in, her hair a wild halo around her. "I live here." She snapped. "I'll stand where I want." Her cheeks were red.

A long best of silence passed before he laughed. Draco ran a hand down his face. "Granger," he pressed. "Come down from there."

She shook her head.

"Where's the spider?" Draco asked, and her blush slid down her neck. "You do realize you're a witch, don't you? You could blast it to death with a flick of your wrist."

"It crawled on my hand, and I dropped my wand." She whined.

He sniggered. "So summon it?"

She put her hands on her hips. "I knew you would be home in a few minutes. I tried to kill it."

"With the book?"

Hermione chewed her bottom lip. "Maybe. Are you going to kill it or what?"

"Depends," Draco mused. "What do I get in return?"

Her eyes flashed as she huffed. "For fuck's sake, what do you want? It's going to get away!"

"Maybe it will crawl on the bed while we're sleeping and get trapped in that unruly mane of yours."

Hermione hopped off the chair, eyeing the floor around her. "I'll suck you off at the gala this weekend in the loo if you go kill it."

"Don't wear knickers either," Draco said smoothly.

"Fine. Go." She turned him by his shoulders and pushed him toward the living room.

He laughed and crouched down of front of the sofa. "Fuck, this thing is huge!"

The chair toppled over as she resumed her spot on it. "Set it on fire if you have to. I don't care, just kill it!"

Draco settles for squishing it with her book, grimacing as he saw it was the first edition of a muggle book he'd bought her. "Do you have any idea how much this was?"

She looked sheepish. "I'm sorry."

He's buy her another, Draco supposed.


	10. Chapter 10

**The amazing team at DFW helps us feel special for our birthdays. Here are two drabbles for two lovely writers. Happy birthday! I'm posting the drabbles as one part, but I'd love to here what you think of both!**

 **For TheImperfectionista. Favorite Tropes: Co-Workers, Fake Dating.**

When another one of her friends tied the knot, Hermione smiled, waved, and wished them well.

She ignored Molly asking her when she was going to find a nice wizard to settle down. She didn't care what anyone else thought, did she?

"Hermione!" Molly cried, wrapping her in a hug after Luna and Neville married. "How are you?"

The question was about to leave her mouth, and Hermione still didn't have an answer, not that she particularly wanted one. So she replied, "Oh, I haven't—"

An arm snaked around her wrist, and a glass of champagne was pressed into her hand. Her mouth dried as she recognised Draco Malfoy, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Close your mouth or you'll give it away."

She plastered a happy smile on her face, and a genuine smile curved her lips when Molly walked away, spluttering.

"We'll have to carry on the charade all night." He mused, draining the last of the amber liquid in his glass. "Can you dance?"

"Not very well." She replied honestly.

He took her hand, and settled a hand on her hip, sweeping her onto the dancefloor anyway. "Very well then."

"Are you going to judge me?" Hermione asked, still grinning.

Draco snorted. "Not out loud."

 **For otterlyardent. Favorite Tropes: Soulmates, Friends to Lovers, Slytherin Hermione.**

Amortentia didn't do this.

It fucking _didn't._

Yet her mouth was dry as she peered up at the Slytherin Seeker staring down at her while they were trapped in a broom cupboard. "Fucking Salazar's bollocks, it had to be _you_ , didn't it?" Malfoy growled, but he didn't look like he was all that angry.

No, he actually looked like he wanted to pin her to the shelf behind her and—

"I don't," Hermione's mouth was dry. "I don't understand."

His hand shot out too fast for her to watch, and he lifted her wrist. "See this?" Draco's finger stroked a small mark—was it a small dragon?—on the inside of her wrist that hadn't been there before. "It's a soulmate mark. The Malfoys—we—the Malfoy family was cursed where we can only be with our soulmate over a hundred years ago."

She snatched her hand back. "That's ridiculous. This is just a a side effect of the Amortentia."

He shook his head. "No, it's really not." He lifted his arm, and Hermione saw a small otter tattooed on the inside of his pale, milk white wrist.

"That's my Patronus."

He nodded. "And that's mine."

"You've got to be shitting me." Hermione deadpanned.

Which was why Harry barged into the cupboard, shouting that Malfoy was probably hexing her, only to find her pinned to the shelf with Draco's mouth pressed to hers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Prompted a while back for RooOJoy's birthday. Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hermione Granger.**

 **Prompt: Firewhiskey, Dance.**

* * *

"'Mione!" Someone called, pawing his way through the crowd. Fred came to stand in front of her table, clutching a glass of firewhisky of his own, and held one out to her. "You haven't danced once."

She took the glass from his hand, her fingers swiping along the beads of condensation rolling down the sides. "And there is a very good reason for that!" Hermione called over the crowd.

In the center of the dance floor, Harry and Ron were joined by their own female counterparts. It wasn't that they hadn't invited her as well, but she didn't have a partner, and well—

"Dancing isn't hard." Fred grinned.

She begged to differ. "I can't dance. I don't want to either. I'm perfectly fine watching the crowd from over here."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "It's a celebration. Haven't you heard?"

She took a long drink, letting the liquid burn a path down her throat. "Yes, we're all celebrating that we're alive, I'm aware."

Fred snatched her drink from her, downing the rest.

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Why did you bother bringing it to me?"

"I'll buy you another. Dance with me." Fred grabbed her hand, hauling her to her feet. "I'm not giving you the option to say no."

Her heartbeat was a steady thrum in her chest. She'd noticed Fred for a long time, had ignored her small crush for even longer until it dwarfed everything else when he was near.

Fred slipped an arm around her waist, leading her onto the floor amidst the other couples. "You always look bored over there." He said quietly.

She lifted her head. "Do you spend a lot of time looking at me?" The question popped out of her mouth without her permission, and heat flooded her face.

"Yes." Fred's admission was so quiet she barely heard it over the crowd. "I do."

"I think I'd like that drink now," Hermione breathed.

With a grin, Fred nodded. "You can dance, you know,"

She shook her head. "No, but firewhisky will make me think I can."

His arm was still possessively locked around her waist.

In the middle of the floor, Ginny shouted and held her hand out for Ron to shove galleons toward her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Prompted by LightofEvolution on tumblr. Pairing: Harry Potter x Hermione Granger (kind of).**

 **Prompts: "You have...superpowers?" & "Let's blow this joint." Drabble set before their first year of Hogwarts. **

**As always, I like to receive requests or prompts for any pairing for when I'm bored, which is often.**

* * *

As the Dursley's preferred, Harry sat on the other end of the coffee shop. From his seat, he could see Dudley shoving various sweets down his throat, while guzzling hot chocolate.

Harry looked down at the cup of water her asked for, and the mint he'd taken from the jar in the counter. He was fairly certain that you were still meant to pay for them—though they were still cheap—but the clerk waved him off with a pitying smile.

"Excuse me," a girl spoke beside him. "Do you mind if I sit here?" Her hair was larger than her, bushy and untamed, but it seemed to suit her. She arched an eyebrow when he didn't reply.

"Oh!" Harry swallowed, motioning across from him. "Yes, that's fine."

There were plenty of other tables, so Harry wasn't sure why she had asked to sit next to him, but he wasn't going to pass up the chance to not be alone. Aunt Petunia eyed him from across the room, her eyes narrowing.

"I'm Hermione," she introduced, holding her hand out to shake.

"Harry."

"Pleased to meet you, Harry."

Hermione flipped open her book, tracing a path down the pages while mouthing the words to himself.

Harry found himself watching her. He couldn't describe it, but there was something odd about her.

She flipped the page without lifting a finger.

His mouth fell open. "How did you do that?"

Hermione froze for a moment before slamming her book shut. "I should go."

He caught her by the hand before she could stand. "Wait! I just—I can do that sort of thing too."

Her features softened. "Like turning pages without touching them?"

"Well, no. I don't read very much."

Hermione's nose crinkled. "You don't read?"

"My aunt and uncle don't let me do very much." Harry explained. "But we went to the zoo and when I put my hand to the glass, the glass disappeared and the snakes got out!"

Her eyes widened. "That's—well,"

"You have superpowers like me." He said it eagerly, aware of the happiness flashing across his face and she giggled.

"Superpowers? I think it's magic."

The two felt like the same thing, but he didn't say that.

"Can you do anything else?" Harry asked quietly, casting wayward glances toward his aunt and uncle.

Hermione shrugged. "Not that I've tried. It seems dangerous."

Again, he looked at his family, finding them engrossed in a conversation that he had no part of. "Let's blow this joint."

Her laugh was a light giggle. "Pardon?"

"Come on!" He grinned. "I want to see if there's anything else we can do."

Her eyes widened a fraction and her lips parted. "Really?"

Harry was pleased when she stood without objection, and held her book tightly. "We can—"

"Boy!" Vernon thundered and Harry's stomach sank to his feet. "We're leaving." His uncle cast a hard look at Hermione, who glared back in response.

As his uncle dragged him away, Hermione hurried to catch up and pressed a piece of paper into his hand. He barely caught a glance of the phone number before it was snatched away from him.

Casting a glance back at Hermione, he wondered if they would cross paths again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Prompted on tumblr. I am doing these all day so feel free to leave me a request with a pairing of your choice here or at mrsren96.**

* * *

"Harry is on the other side of the door!" Hermione whispers, panicked and her eyes are wide. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

His smile is wide, and she glares back. "Only for you, love."

She shakes her head as he backs her toward the wall non the other end of their shared office is glass, where anyone below could see them. "Draco, we can't—stop that!"

His teeth scrape her throat, and he silences her by digging his fingers into her hips through her skirt. "Shhh, or he'll hear you."

"Oh, God." She groans, moving her hips toward him when his hand slips between her legs.

He tugs her blouse, and the buttons pop open, some scattering across the carpet. "However," he clicks his tongue. "It makes no difference to me if you scream. I'll keep fucking you." Two fingers pump into her. "Still wet from this morning, Granger?"

"I—fuck you, Malfoy." She hisses. That morning, he'd bent her over a conference room table, dragging her skirt up and taking her knickers before tucking them into his pocket.

He'd fucked her like that, the table digging into her thighs, where anyone could walk in. He told her if they did, he wouldn't stop.

Not even for a second.

"What was that?" His voice is low in her ear, a low rasp that makes her shake against him while his fingers pump into her.

She always caves. Draco rarely teases her for it, relishing in her want—maybe she should call it a need—to submit. Giving in always results in her legs shaking so badly she's unable to walk, but she really wishes he wouldn't accost her at work as much.

"Liar," Draco murmurs when she says it out loud. He drops to his knees before her, eyes darker than she's ever seen, and her legs threaten to buckle. "You love knowing anyone could see you like this." His lips press to the inside of her thigh. "With your legs spread—" Another kiss to her thigh, this one higher. "Whimpering and moaning my name—"

It's too much.

"Are you going to talk, or fuck me?"

The first flick of his tongue makes her pull his hair, and he has to hold her up before she crashes to the floor beside him. With his fingers gripping her thighs while she pushes herself forward, Hermione tumbles over the edge with a scream that's barely bottled in her throat.

"Come here." She tells him, her voice weak. "We have to be fast." She doesn't say that Harry is waiting for her still, not when mentioning anything else outside their little bubble will ruin the mood.

"He's oblivious."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Shut yo and get on with it."

"So bloody romantic." He grumbles.

She picks the position, not bothering to move off the floor to her desk—which they've made use of more than once—or the sofa—where many late nights were spent. With the coarse carpet under her knees, Hermione sighs when Draco unzips his trousers.

The fumble—it's all she can call it when they're always like this, seeking the other out—is quick, and she can barely breathe when he slides into her.

"Fuck." He groans and his nails scrape down her back as it arches.

It makes her toes curl until he stops and she blows out a harsh breath. From the way Draco tenses, he heard it.

"Sorry," he mutters.

Looking back at him, she bites her lip. "For the absolute millionth time, I like it when you scratch my back, so stop apologizing."

Draco grumbles, but she isn't if the mind to ask him exactly what when he slams into her. She's likely to have carpet burns across her chest and tits from the way he presses her into the floor, and she whimpers.

He reaches between their bodies, and rubs her clit. "That's it."

She's close, teetering on the edge of second orgasm that she's desperate for. "Harder." Hermione mewls.

His hips slap against her while he scratches her back and she's gone. Blissfully falling, Hermione rolls onto her back. They're both covered in sweat.

He's grinning like he's won something. "Still want to meet Potter for lunch or do you want to go to mine?"

Panting, she asks if he can be ready again that fast.

"What kind of man do you take me for? I'm offended, Granger."


	14. Chapter 14

**Drabble Prompt: Dramione. Trying out new kinks. Draco is polyjuiced as someone else. Hermione got pregnant and now draco is worried about how the baby will look like lol.**

* * *

Hermione and Draco regularly tried new things in the bedroom—and sometimes not in the bedroom at all. A certain section of an alley in muggle London was seared into her mind, from the bricks biting into her back as he pressed her to it.

He teased her for having a list, but it hadn't failed them yet. So, when it finally came to his weekend—also planned, it was only fair to take turns to live out a fantasy—Draco surprised her with what he picked.

It wasn't one of his fantasies, and she'd been certain he was going to go for where shibari was written in her clean handwriting. Having not made it a secret of how he longed to see her suspended from their bedroom ceiling, intricate knots stretching up her spine, and how he wanted to see her writhe against his ropes— _think of how needy, how desperate, you'll be rubbing your cunt against them for friction_ —Hermione was very surprised.

"But that's mine."

He nodded. "I know. I finished brewing the potion earlier this morning."

Her mouth dried as she stared at it. "I thought we still needed to discuss this. As I remember, it was the one you weren't particularly comfortable with."

"Well," he swallowed. "I've changed my mind. Clearly."

She crossed her legs. "Why is that?"

"I know how badly you want it." The bed dipped under his knee as he moved toward her. "And I'd like to give it to you." Draco smoothed his thumbs over her ankles before wrapping his fingers around them and tugging her down the bed. "After all, it's still really me, isn't it?"

She nibbled her bottom lip. "You're sure?"

"Oh, yes." Draco's teeth showed in the darkness of their bedroom as he grinned. "Ready, love?"

Hermione nodded.

He swallowed the potion, and it was disconcerting to see blond shift to dark brown. Rather than the grey eyes she was used to, bright green stared back at her.

Her voice lodged in her throat, and she breathed, "Oh, Merlin."

"It's Harry, actually."

Same voice.

Same everything.

Hermione reached for him, sliding her hands up his chest as his shirt was vanished. She could remember the last time she'd seen Harry as such, in the Forbidden Forrest, taking and taking and taking from one another until there was nothing left to take.

"I love you so much." She whispered. "And that's to _you_."

Draco nodded, hair that wasn't his falling into his eyes as he lunged forward. He pinned her to the bed, shifting between her thighs before resting them on his shoulders.

She didn't breathe a name. He'd done this for her despite extreme hesitation, and pressing her luck in such a way felt disrespectful.

But she hardly had the mind the say _anything_ beyond _please, harder, please_ , and all of them were shrieks. Her legs trembled as he fucked her hard, recalling just what she'd said about what she wanted—and how she wanted it.

His fingers found her clit and he circled the sensitive nub. "Come for me, 'Mione."

Draco didn't call her that, but it was Harry's voice and the nickname he refused to drop and—

"Just like you did then, love. Come over my cock like you did in the tent."

She came with a wail that echoed in the manor.

oOoOoOoOo

Pregnant.

 _Pregnant._

Oh, fucking Merlin.

They were goddamned _pregnant._

It was an initial panic. They hadn't planned for this, not yet at least. Eventually, they had agreed. Maybe in a year, but not right then.

Draco had stared at her, his dinner falling off his fork as it had been halfway to his mouth. "You—we're— _what?"_

She could only nod. "I know that we didn't want to have children yet. And I'm sorry if this isn't—"

His chair fell backward with how quickly he reached her, and he cupped her face to kiss her gently. "No, no." Draco shook his head. "I'm… I don't think I've ever felt this happy."

"Not even when you married me?"

"This is a close second." He murmured. "When?"

"Do you remember when you made Polyjuice and we…" Hermione trailed off. "My contraceptive potion failed, and from my estimate, it was then."

His smile wavered. "Holy fuck, I wasn't even myself when I got you up the duff!" He groaned.

She rolled her eyes. "'I'm still me, aren't I?'" Hermione mocked. "Of course you were you."

"Bollocks. If my child comes out looking like Harry fucking Potter—"

She burst into laughter. "That's not how it works. I'm sure our child will have blond hair just like you."

"—fucking _lightning_ bolt scar—"

"Scars aren't hereditary."

Draco raked his fingers through his hair. "We can go to a healer and they can reassure us."

"No me. I'm plenty reassured. And you should be too considering you run an apothecary. You know how Polyjuice works."

In the end, Draco asked their healer a plenty embarrassing question during her first appointment.


	15. Chapter 15

**Requested by a tumblr anon who wanted to see Draco and Hermione make the public uncomfortable with displays of affection. Thanks for the request! Come find me on tumblr at mrsren96 to request things, leave ideas that I could possibly make into chaptered stories, or even message me here with a pairing and prompt. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Sick and tired of the press following them—it had been several weeks since going public—Hermione knew what they had to do.

"You want to what?" He asked, lifting a brow as he pulled a wine glass from the cupboard.

Her hands on her hips, Hermione drawled, "I want to ruin their photos. Aren't you tired of being followed no matter where we go?"

Draco poured her glass of red wine, pressing it into her hand. "I'm following, but we knew what would happen once we made our relationship public knowledge."

She sighed. "I know that, but it's absurd. I'm followed to work, into shoppes, and I can't even begin to tell you the things I've been called."

A crease formed between his eyebrows. "Why don't you tell me about that?"

She especially didn't want to do that. "It's simple the way I see it. The Daily Prophet is the worst out of them all. _But_ they can't publish anything that isn't fit for readers of all ages."

As his hip bumped against the counter, he replied, "I don't follow."

"Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable, don't they?"

oOoOoOoO

Draco thought her idea was mental at best, but he wasn't going to complain if his girlfriend snogged him at random. Which, he had his doubts that she would actually do it.

She was prim, and proper until he got her under him. Hermione was too much of a good girl to do as she was hinting at. But it was clear how overwhelming the press was getting to be, so he supposed he would resort to bribes.

Or, that was his thought until a wizard with a camera asked about their relationship in the middle of Diagon Alley. "Aren't you worried he's using your status as a war hero to improve his name?"

Hermione's lip curled as she sneered at the balding man.

With his arms full of her purchases from Flourish and Blotts—of which there were many—Draco didn't catch her. There was a blur of dark hair as she lunged, and covered his mouth with hers. His surprise was muffled.

Considering they were in Diagon, he should have pulled away. Anyone could see them, and just because he was a stain on regular wizarding society didn't mean that Granger needed to fall with him.

But he was a selfish man and her lips were soft over his.

She ripped away from him too soon, leaving him dazed and confused. "Wha—"

"Does that answer your question?" Granger snarled, his lips bruised and her hair wild.

The reporter didn't say anything.

* * *

There was a blurb detailing their sudden public display, but no photograph. Hermione was pleased, and Draco didn't blink when she told him the good news before sliding into his lap.

A week later, it was Potter's birthday. While he didn't want to go to a party in a wizarding club, he didn't complain.

It definitely wasn't because Granger promised to blow him in the loo.

The music could be heard from down the street, the steady thrum of the music vibrating through the cobblestone.

Hermione drank— _a lot—_ and yanked him onto the dance floor without leaving him much of an option. While she moved her arse against the front of his trousers, his hands slid down her sides, coming to a rest on her hips.

"You're causing quite the scene." He murmured.

She flashed a pleased smile as she tilted her head back. "Are you complaining?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, but Weasley is looking green over there." He reached around and gripped her chin, turning her head.

It was true. Weasley hadn't liked their relationship from the moment he found out—and that had been moment before the rest of the world knew—and Draco didn't expect his opinion to change.

"Ignore him." She shouted over the music. "I just want to have a good time and no one is—"

There was a bright flash around them.

Her face crumbled in disappointment before she whirled around. "Why can't you leave us alone? We just want to enjoy our night."

Squabbling with a pudgy reporter wasn't going to resolve anything. Draco snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against his broad chest. Dipping his head to whisper in her ear, he murmured, "It's not worth it."

His girlfriend, fiery as she was, was already part way into a scolding that would have rivaled his mother. Deciding she hadn't gotten the point, Draco tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth to his. "I said it's not worth it." He repeated, his nails grazing her scalp.

The reporter was arleady suffciently uncomfortable, already turning away, but he didn't stop there.

"Besides," Draco drawled, just loud enough for anyone close to them to hear it, "you made me a promise."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting as he angled himself toward her, and blocked her from the pest that had upset her. "Right now?" She whispered. "But not right here."

He chuckled. "No, love, not right here. I don't like to share."

The reporter scrambled to escape, and Ron Weasley shouted from across the club as he Apparated out, with Hermione already tearing into his clothes.

* * *

It had become a sort of game as to who could make the other more embarrassed. They didn't spiral into absolute depravity, thought it was tempting for Draco after Potter had issued an amused reminder that he would arrest them for indecent exposure.

So, he's careful.

At brunch with his mother while at an upscale restaurant in Diagon, Draco's fingers sneaked under the table, barely moving the cloth covering it, and he brought her off with his fingers. Slow, even thrusts of his fingers while she tried to explain to his mother—and her future mother-in-law, but Hermione is the only one who doesn't know that he'd decided that long ago—exactly what she was hoping to do in the Ministry of Magic.

During a wedding between Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown, Hermione cupped him through his trousers in the middle of a slow dance, whispering for him to follow her to the stair way.

It went like that, back and forth, until their friends were fucking sick of it. "Don't you know that public displays of affection makes people very uncomfortable?"

It was a bit of an inside joke. Hermione snorted, muffling her laugh while Draco pressed his lips to her shoulder. "When was the last time you saw a picture of us on the cover of the Daily Prophet? They're terrified of us!"

"Terrified you'll start shagging in front of them!" Theo groaned.

And it has started as a way to get the press to leave them alone, but Draco couldn't say he minded be able to touch her as much as he liked.


	16. Chapter 16

**Requested by an anonymous tumblr used. Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger. 4. Mistaken for a Couple. 16. Mutual Pining. No Voldemort AU. Head Boy, Head Girl.**

* * *

The first time it happened, it was Theo during a weekly meeting. Well, it was after actually, and Hermione was gathering loose pieces of parchment. Most of the prefects have already filed out, save for Parkinson and Theo.

All Hermione wanted to do was escape back to her dorm, and not set foot in the shared common space until morning when they can part ways again.

"What do you mean?" Theo asked, his hip bumping the work table Hermione stood at. "You patrolled Hogsmeade with Granger last weekend."

Hermione froze, suddenly interested in the conversation. It was true, they had patrolled together last weekend despite an agreement forged early in the year where they could work it out to be one weekend a month for them. But she'd come to a prefect meeting to learn that _all_ of her Hogsmeade weekends were being used by Malfoy.

It was odd.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were dating her." Theo said

All of the air was sucked out of the room. Hermione slammed the book down, and reached for her bag as she moved for a hasty escape.

Parkinson's laugh was a cackle. "Are you joking? Draco would never date a mudblood."

The slur made her move a bit faster, though all she wanted to do was hex Parkinson, but that was unacceptable for the Head Girl.

"Detention, tomorrow with Filch," Draco drawled, catching Hermione's eye as she left the room. "You know better than to use slurs, Pansy. And—Granger and I? You should know me better."

As she made her way down the corridor, Hermione wasn't sure if it was his haughty tone, or the laughter that followed her that hurt her more.

She didn't stop to think of why it hurt her either.

* * *

During a game of spin the butterbeer, at a party that was certainly against school rules, Hermione was forced to come to terms with something she'd been denying for weeks.

"Do you have a crush?" Ginny asked, meaning it to be a mild question.

She didn't expect Hermione to blurt out yes under the effects of Veritaserum laced in the drink.

Hermione didn't expect for it to be true.

With a last look at Ron, who's face had grown red, and he opened his mouth to ask who it was, Hermione ran out of Gryffindor Tower.

No one in her house could keep a secret, especially not one like this. If it got out—she'd be subject to ridicule. Perhaps, she's dealt with that in younger years, but she just wanted to enjoy the rest of her seventh year.

Rounding a corner, she slammed into someone's chest.

 _Don't look down._

 _Don't look up._

"Granger?" Malfoy's voice is soft, and she embarrassingly hid her face even further, only she nuzzled his chest by mistake and wished the castle would swallow her whole. "Are you drunk?"

She was, even though it was terribly wrong and led her into an equally awkward moment as the one she'd just left. "Are you going to take me to Professor Dumbledore?"

His chest shook as he chuckled. "No. Let's get you back to the common room. I have a Sober Up Potion you can take."

Malfoy slipped an arm around her waist, holding the most of her weight while half carrying her to their common room.

It was bad luck there were several of his friends who witnessed them.

It was even worse that when he settled for picking her up to carry her, she'd nuzzled his neck.

* * *

By the time most of Hogwarts assumed that she had either been drunk and clingy—which was the unfortunate truth—or that she and Malfoy had been secretly dating for months.

Why else would they patrol every weekend together instead of spending time with their friends?

She didn't know his perspective on it, but she happened to enjoy the time spent patrolling with him. That was part of the problem.

Students speculated as to whether she'd lost her virginity yet—they did share a common room. Did Hermione Granger even sleep in her own bed or did she crawl into Malfoy's?

It was enough to make her mental.

Having an unrequited—because it would never go both ways—on someone you weren't meant to—he had been a tremendous prick to her as children—while everyone spoke as if you were— _Merlin, I'm so jealous—_ was enough to rip your heart in two.

Her quill snapped in her hand.

"Granger?" It was him again.

Of course it was. It was always bloody him.

Fuck—

She'd said that out loud.

Hermione cleared her throat. "What is it?"

His hip bumped her work table. "Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Her nose crinkled and her lips parted. Surely he was joking. "I'm not sure that's the best idea for you when everyone is convinced we're off snogging—or shagging—in an alley while patrolling. Take someone else."

"Wait!" He called out as she rose from her seat. "They're already making assumptions." Malfoy murmured. "We could… We could give them something to talk about. I put Pansy and Theo on patrols. So, you and I…"

She almost dropped her books. "We could give them something to talk about." Hermione repeated, her tongue sliding against her lips.

The motion didn't go unnoticed.

He nodded. "Yes, exactly."

Hermione remained silent.

"Is this a joke?" She whispered. "Malfoy, I'm not interested in being the punchline—"

He kissed her without warning, tangling his fingers into her curls while slanting his mouth against hers.

Somewhere in the stacks of the library, there was a shriek.

Her fingers raising to her bruised lips, Hermione nodded. "Right. Hogsmeade." She agreed.

He led her all the way to their common room with his fingers threaded through hers, both of them sniggering at the gobsmacked look on Ron's face as they passed him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Here is another tumblr request. They're so much fun guys. I've gotten a lot of requests that are also going to be oneshots, and short stories, so if I haven't gotten to yours yet, I will!**

 **Request: Dramione. Hermione tries out a new red lipstick. Draco has never really spared Hermione a second glance at the office until one day he notices she's wearing lipstick. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Granger was attractive when he stopped to think about it, but he'd never looked twice her way. He vividly remembered her being an uptight swot, and an absolute fucking nag in school, which made it hard to look at her any other way than one that related to disgust.

Forced into close proximity with her when Unspeakable Croaker demanded they work together. Citing the reasons that no one else was willing to work with him, and Granger had fucking _offered,_ he was left with no other choice.

There was a permanent scowl on his face when he walked to her office that morning. He'd been up for hours, his stomach twisting at the thought of working with her. His left arm was much heavier than it usually was, and he'd stared at the Dark Mark, specifically the snake's mouth for hours that morning wishing the snake would swallow him whole.

Of course she had offered. Granger loved taking on charity cases, didn't she? Or maybe it was due to the fact that he'd mostly solved the mystery already—a dinky box recovered from the last of the Death Eater hideouts that caused whoever who touched it to come under a violent curse.

Six Aurors had died.

Really, it was supposed to be about that, but—

Her door swung open.

Draco's mouth dried, whatever sharp insult that had been poised at the tip of his tongue dying with it. "Good morning."

She cocked her head to the side, and drew her bottom lip in between her teeth, sucking it. It made everything infinitely _worse._ "Morning. Were you going to linger outside my door all day, or were you going to come inside?"

Her gaze dropped to his throat as he swallowed.

* * *

Her lips were painted red. If it had been just the first day, he could have stood that. Despite how pretty it was when her tongue darted out to slide against her bottom lip, or the way she would give coy little smirks when she outdid him—which, might he add, was fucking often—he could have ignored that.

But it was every day for three weeks now. She wore skirts that were ministry regulation, but just barely. When she crossed her legs in front of him while they sat on opposing sofas, he dragged his eyes over every inch of creamy skin that was exposed. Granger bent over in front of him, but it was never purely improper.

She'd drop her quill—fuck, why was she so clumsy—and crouch down to pick it up. Her skirt was tight around her arse, and all he could imagine was watching her just like that while she sucked him off.

While meeting with a curse breaker, Granger conveniently bent over the desk in front of him, her arse bumping against his barely hidden arousal, to pick something up. Nothing about it looked terrible, not the way she smiled as she gathered a new piece of information, not the way her blouse was snug against her breasts and showcased the curves he wanted to trace with his fingers and tongue, not the way she slipped and ground against his pelvis.

When she ate her lunch, she liked to savour each bite, and it was about to make him goddamned mental with the occasional satisfied, but weak, sound she made.

She sucked on the end of sugar quills, her cheeks hollowing until his trousers were tight. It was all he could imagine, to have her on her knees while she took his cock into her pretty mouth.

Draco realised it later than he should have—Hermione Granger was fucking with him.

* * *

He barged into her office without knocking, his cheeks flushed, and his legs slightly weak from an impromptu morning wank he'd had after waking from an embarrassingly vivid dream about her and her fucking lipstick. "Granger."

She sat up in her chair, lips still irritatingly plump and red, and arched an eyebrow. "Malfoy, I thought I wouldn't be seeing you since our time together is over. Is there something I can help you with?"

Draco dragged his fingers through his hair. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Her grin was bright, triumphant, and he'd explore that later. "I'd love to. Eight o'clock?"

Sliding his hands into his trouser pockets, Draco nodded with a smirk. "I'll pick you up. And, Granger," Draco turned back as he paused at her door, "wear that lipstick."


	18. Chapter 18

**Here is another tumblr request that made me laugh the whole way through! "I need a fic where Hermione buys Ikea furniture and gers Draco to assemble it-no magic is going to save him this time."**

Her request caught him off guard.

"You want to go where?" Draco's nose crinkled as he stared down at her. The hard part was past him now, or it was supposed to be. Asking Granger to move in with him had been hard enough. Through weeks of failed attempts to ask, always interrupted by one of her friends, or her cat, or she wanted to jump him when she came through the Floo—

Alright, he wasn't so upset about the last one. The point was that he had no clue what she'd just asked him.

He probably should have been paying attention.

Granger cleared her throat, glaring at him while her hands were on her hips. "I told you I wanted to go to Ikea. I know it's a muggle store, but there's a furniture set I'm dying to have."

His eyes narrowed. "For which room?"

"The spare, which we agreed I could use as a personal study. You have your own, and I wouldn't complain about how you furnish yours." She grinned. "We could go this weekend? It won't be that bad."

She _always_ said that when it came to anything muggle. "Do we have to ride in one of those deathtraps again?"

She sniggered. "Only for a little bit. Fifteen minutes at the most, I promise! And I'm a very good driver."

"I'm a very good flyer, but it's nearly impossible to get you on a broom with me."

Her nose crinkled as it always did when he mentioned flying. "That's _different_." She stressed. "If I fall off a broom, I could fall to my death."

Merlin, did she even hear herself? "First of all, I'm offended that you think I would allow you to fall. What sort of wizard do you take me for?" Draco stepped toward her, his chest brushing hers. "And second, if someone crashes into us, I'll be crushed to death by two impossibly large steel contraptions!"

Hermione huffed. "It's only a thirty minute trip there, Draco." Her fingers inched up his chest, fidgeting with the knot at his throat. "If you do, I'll make it worth your while." She whispered, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him down. Granger had a nasty habit of getting her way by randomly snogging him.

He had a nasty habit of letting her get her way.

"Wait!" He broke away as she steered him toward the desk sitting in the middle of the study. "You said it was a fifteen minute drive there."

She unbuttoned her blouse, smirking as he swallowed. "I happen to drive very fast, Draco."

That wasn't what he wanted to hear. "For Merlin's sake, you can't just seduce me into doing whatever you want. I'm stronger than you give me credit for.'

Granger arched an eyebrow, letting her skirt pool on the floor, leaving her in her knickers and heels. "Sure about that?"

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No."

"Brilliant. Ikea?" She asked hopefully, pulling the zipper of his trousers down.

He gripped the edge of his desk. "Ikea." He spat, taking the loss for what it was.

oOoOoOoOoOo

As if going to Ikea wasn't bad enough, he'd found himself on the wrong end of a bet that he didn't want to make. But the prize was enticing. She said he could do any _one_ thing to her that he wanted.

 _If_ he could assemble at least the desk by hand.

No magic.

"It won't be so bad." He murmured, carrying the box into their flat himself just to prove a point. Hermione followed, levitating the rest of the furniture behind her while he led her to the spare room. "We're meeting Blaise and Theo for dinner tonight at seven."

She gave him a peculiar look. "You should probably reschedule that. We're definitely going to be here for a while."

He scoffed. "It comes with instructions. It will be perfectly fine, I'm sure."

Granger sat in the floor cross legged, and put her hands up in surrender. "If you say so. I think you may regret that though when I invite them over for a laugh."

"You're such a cruel witch." He muttered.

"I wouldn't do that." She laughed. "If you like, you could assemble the shelf instead. It would be much easier."

He gave her a harsh look. "I think I can manage."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Draco was not managing.

Hermione sat quietly in the corner of the room, perched on the chair she'd already assembled, and her hair was wild around her. She'd dug her fingers into her curls every time he cursed.

Admittedly, it had been a lot.

"Fuck!"

She turned around a board with 98 written across it.

"When did you even get that?" He snarled, ripping a bag of fixtures open. They went everywhere, scattering to all sides of the room. No matter, Draco would just bloody summon them back him— "Shite!"

Her marker squeaked as the number rolled to 99. "Are we going for a hundred? It's a nice even number." She attempted humour, but it fell flat. "I transfigured it. You can stop if you want. I'll still let you do whatever you like."

He shook his head. "No, this is a matter of pride now."

Granger nodded, not saying another word.

Skimming the directions, which weren't all that helpful, he knew he was on the right track. Her ridiculous desk was only half of a desk, but it was progress. "I'll just grab these…" He crawled forward, already sitting on his knees, to grab the loose parts he'd flung around the room.

His foot knocked against the partially assembled desk.

It fell apart.

There was a sharp gasp on the other side of the room, and he hung his head. "I'm going to fucking buy Ikea and fucking burn it to the ground." Draco fell back on his haunches, laughing as she held up a modified tally.

She was grinning wider than he'd ever seen.

"What is it?"

She slid off the chair, coming to stand in front of him while holding her hand out. "I didn't think you were going to really try. I'm just happy that you did. Come on, we can still make dinner if you want."

He glared at the room around him. "I was serious about buying Ikea."

She giggled, and it was his favorite sound.


	19. Chapter 19

**This was a request on tumblr for a post epilogue, fluffy drabble where Hermione and Draco get together. I'm unsure of how good the fluff is, but here we are.**

It starts in a coffee shop that opens on a corner in Diagon Alley in the middle of October. Hermione's constantly busy, and she takes her coffee to go each morning. Formerly a devout drinker, she's changed her ways a bit since Arthur gifted her a muggle coffee machine during the last family Christmas.

 _The last family Christmas you're likely to ever spend with the Weasleys._

Her mind is traitorous, and she elects to push the thought from her mind. Her divorce has been finalised for months, and while Molly will never be pleased about it—the witch didn't believe in divorce—that doesn't matter to Hermione at all.

She prattles off her order while staring at the menu overhead, eyes skimming the new seasonal selections. But then she glances down, and her eyes widen a fraction. "Scorpius?"

The blond grins and takes her money. "It's nice to see you, Mrs Weasley."

Hermione internally flinches at the name, but that's how it goes, for the most part, these days. There's so many witches and wizards who look down at her, whispering that it's going to hurt her ability to run for Minister, that the name should roll off her back now. But it doesn't.

"When did you start working here?" Hermione asks politely, and machines behind him whir to life.

"Today's my first day on the register. Dad says I should get a job to appreciate money more."

She's taken aback, not because she pretends to know Draco Malfoy in any capacity, but it's such a sound statement that she finds herself agreeing with the man. Hermione laughs. "I see. Any particular reason he wanted you to learn that?"

Scorpius' eyes lighten as he scratches the back of his neck. "Oh, well, I might have spent more money than I should have to take a girl on a date."

She lifts an eyebrow, and her question remains unspoken.

"Just," his voice cracks, "two hundred galleons."

Hermione chokes, her eyes shooting open. "I imagine it must have been a very nice date." She says. It's not her place to pass judgment on someone who's not her child. "I can only imagine how he reacted."

"Yeah." Scorpius clicks his tongue. "It wasn't that nice of a date. I took her to a muggle carnival she wanted to go to and lost all of my— _Dad's_ —money trying to win a stuffed animal."

"Oh," she laughs softly, taking her drink from him. "Those are rigged. You never stood a chance."

He glowers at her. "I'll keep that in mind next time. Have a good day."

She hears him ask the next customer how she can help them.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Scorpius is behind the counter the next time she visits the shop, and greets her with an excited wave as he helps someone else. Hermione doesn't know why Malfoy's son is so eager to catch her eye when she hardly knows him—beyond an attempted relationship with Rose in the year previously, which Hermione thought was going to work out.

But it was one of the things that Ron had ruined with his intense dislike of Slytherin. Still, Rose and Scorpius remained good friends, but it's not to say Hermione sees him often.

As she lingers in line, someone bumps into her, and there's a muttered apology that's a low rasp, and she's already apologising herself and—

"Granger?"

Her head snaps up, and she recognises Malfoy instantly. His eyes are hardly widened, but she can tell he's just as surprised to see her as she is to see him. Hermione swallows as he looks her up and down, and then does it again once more, and it takes a full ten seconds before she can muster anything to say. "Did you come to visit your son?"

While most of their classmates have let themselves go, Malfoy is certainly no in that category. Wearing a well tailoured suit, he adjusts his the knot at his throat, and Hermione can see he's done well to take care of himself. There's a throb in his throat before he answers her. "Yes, actually."

She nods. When the question had popped out of her mouth, she hadn't considered what she'd say next. Hermione and Malfoy aren't on bad terms, not by a long shot when their children were attached at the hip during the term, but they're not friends.

"Hermione, the usual?" Scorpius calls, leaning on the counter.

"Yes, please."

Malfoy arches an eyebrow. "You have a usual?"

Hermione shifts her weight, and it feels like everyone in the coffee shop is staring at them. But there's hardly anyone there now, and it's all in her head. This isn't like her to be affected by someone just because they were physically attractive, but it's been a long time since anyone has looked at her that her mind comically shorts out.

"I drink a lot of coffee." Hermione laughs. "Probably too much if I'm honest, but it keeps me going." It's too much information, she thinks and she regrets it immediately.

"I was sorry to hear about you and Weasley," Malfoy says softly as they step to the side, making way for the next customer.

Hermione's just grateful he doesn't say the word _divorce_ because she's heard it enough recently. "Were you?" She asks, and she's not sure why at all.

He chuckles, half-way leaning against the counter while sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. "I suppose not. He's still kind of a tosser."

She can agree with that. "Right on the nose."

He pays for her drinks as Scorpius hands it to her, and the look between father and son does not go unnoticed.

"Are you seeing anyone?" Draco asks when Scorpius is out of earshot, and Hermione's cup freezes just as it brushed her lips.

"I—Pardon?" She breathes.

Malfoy's smirking, and a shiver unfurls on her spine. "I asked if you were seeing anyone. It's a yes or no question, but if you need some time to get back to me…"

"No," Hermione blurts. "I'm not seeing anyone."

His smile is barely there, but the corner of his mouth twitches. "Would you like to get coffee sometime?"

Hermione gives a short laugh as she looks around them. "Well," she drawls. "We're already in a coffee shop, so how about right now? If you're not in a hurry?"

"Maybe one where my son isn't watching me," Draco suggests, and points over her shoulder.

Scorpius is standing there, holding a piece of parchment with a scribbled: _I told you so._

"There's a cafe down the street?" Hermione offers, readjusting her bag. "Or if another day would work better for you…"

As he takes her hand without hesitation and leads her down the street, Hermione has the thought that perhaps things fall apart for other things to fall into place.

It's oddly whimsical for her.

But then again, Draco Malfoy is holding her hand and running his thumb along her knuckles so anything is possible.


	20. Chapter 20

**Dialogue Prompts: "Bite me." and "If you insist." Dramione pairing.**

"How many times am I going to have to tell you that the schedules are to be finalised on _Friday_?" Hermione hissed. Her hands were balled into fists as her sides, and she was seconds from smashed her knuckles into Malfoy's ridiculously pointy face. "If you can't commit to the deadline—"

He huffed, and peeled his quidditch kit over his head. "Merlin, all you do is nag."

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. "Wait, stop undressing. Malfoy, I'm right here!"

Malfoy shrugged, and reached for the button of his trousers. "You're the one who thought it was so urgent to accost me in the Quidditch showers about the prefect schedule."

She did her best to look anywhere that _wasn't_ his bare chest, and continued to fail. "They were to be turned into Headmistress McGonagall last night. If you're unable to meet that deadline each week, it's fine. Just let me take over."

"You mean like you do with everything else?" His trousers hit the floor, leaving him in a pair of silk boxers that she didn't look at.

Definitely not.

And her eyes certainly didn't linger on the outline of his—

"I don't take over everything."

He clicked his tongue. "You do, but that's beside the point. Why would I let you take over? That would mean you'd never come chasing after me anymore." Malfoy smirked, dragging his fingers through his hair.

She folded her arms over her chest. "Can you cover up or something?"

"Am I bothering you, Granger?"

Hermione sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and didn't reply.

He took a step forward, hand raising and he reached for her, dragging his fingers across her hip. "Because you're always fucking bothering me."

Anger surged up and she turned away. "Bite me, Malfoy."

"If you insist." Fingers locked around her wrists and her back met the wall roughly before she could process what had happened. Hard grey eyes peered down at her as his grip on her loosened. "You make me mental, you must realise that." He breathed, fingers tangling with hers as his breath fanned across his lips.

Her head spinning, Hermione shook her head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

His lips brushed hers, soft and warm, and Hermione's parted. "I think you do, Granger."

As he leaned closer, her fingers brushed against his abdomen, and she pressed herself to the wall. Only for him to press himself against her. "I don't—"

He cut her off with a hard kiss, his lips pliable against hers when she would have expected him to be stiff and unyielding. He murmured her name, his fingers sliding through the gaps of hers as he held them over her head as he wedged his knee between her thighs.

Her skirt slid up. "We—"

"Hermione!" Ron called out, his voice far too close for comfort and she knew that Harry couldn't be far behind.

"—have to hide. Right now." Hermione finished weakly.

He'd dragged her inside the showers, and water rained down on them as the door to the locker room slammed open. Her blouse already soaked through, she felt the littlest bit triumphant as Malfoy couldn't move away from her.

"Can you keep quiet?" He whispered, hand slipping below her skirt.

She bit her lip, nodding.


	21. Chapter 21

**Prompt, Sentence Starter: Frantic knocking jarred Hermione awake and a prickly sort of horror crept over her skin as she realized three things: she was incredibly hungover, she had been drinking with Malfoy the night before, and she was, somehow, miraculously, alone in her own bed.**

Frantic knocking jarred Hermione awake and a prickly sort of horror crept over her skin as she realized three things: she was incredibly hungover, she had been drinking with Malfoy the night before, and she was, somehow, miraculously, alone in her own bed.

Of course, she was vividly reminded of a few other key details, like the feel of his fingers skimming across the nape of her neck while she backed them toward a wall. Or the way his knee wedged between her thighs as he flipped them around, and pinned her to the stairwell.

Or—

"Fuck!" Hermione gasped, clutching the sheets to her chest.

Skeeter had come across them, floating quill, and a charmed camera in tow.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat in the doorway, and Hermione glanced up. Malfoy stood there, his features appearing more pinched than normal, and a newspaper was crumpled in his hand. "I originally planned on giving you some space." He murmured. "Unfortunately, we're on the front page of the Daily Prophet." He unfolded it, and Hermione could see the _exact_ moment she said they ought to take themselves elsewhere.

"Oh, Merlin." Hermione let her face fall into her hands. "I'm so sorry."

He nodded stiffly. "Right, I shouldn't have—"

Hermione peeked at him. "Where are you going?"

Malfoy froze, tossing a look over his shoulder. "As confident as I am, I'm not going to stick around when a witch rejects me, Granger."

A frown curved her lips. "Who said anything about rejecting you?"

Silence.

"Oh, _oh._ " Hermione threw the covers off of her, aware that she was only in a long shirt—which come to think of it, she didn't think it was hers—and padded toward him. "I meant I was sorry for the unwanted attention, not that we…"

"Snogged."

"I think that make be putting it mildly."

He snorted, and glanced around her room. "Would you like to have breakfast with me?" Malfoy asked, tucking his hands into his pockets.

She grinned. "Let me get dressed. Unless…" Hermione peeked up at him coyly through her lashes. "How do you feel about breakfast in bed?"

Eyes darkened as they narrowed, and Hermione squealed as her back met the mattress, his lips finding hers.


	22. Chapter 22

Fingers smoothed over her back, dipping below the sheets to where she was still bare. Hermione snuggled closer, slipping her leg between his while using his chest as a pillow. Although...it wasn't a very good pillow, considering it was too hard to be comfortable. "We should probably get home." Hermione murmured, peeking up at him. "If we're late again, we'll have to pay Teddy more, and I'm sure he's had about enough of your son."

Draco snorted. "Why is he only my son when he's rambunctious?" He rolled her nipple lightly between his fingers, smirking when her breath caught. "I'll pay him extra to stay the night. Scorpius has to sleep eventually."

She doubted that would happen at all. "I stand by what I said: we should probably get home. If we don't, Teddy might not watch our unruly child again." That was a lie. Teddy was Scorpius' favorite family member, and their son felt exactly the same. "And your conference ended hours ago, there's really no reason for us to stay at this hotel."

"The Ministry paid for a night." Draco slid down the curve of her body, and parted her thighs before settling between them. Blowing a light breath over her folds, Draco's tongue darted out to brush her clit, and she shuddered. "And there's nothing I'd enjoy more than spending tonight in this bed with my wife."

He did make a rather compelling argument…

"We could do this at home."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I am home. When I'm with you, I'm home."

Before she could accuse him of using sweet nothings to win, her husband lowered his mouth, and she forgot that was arguing at all.

They could just pay Teddy double, she agreed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Ship: Pansy/Hermione. Sexual content, knife-play, slight blood.**

Fingers dig into the flesh of her inner thigh. Warm lips skim the stretch of bare skin there, and Pansy's tongue darts out.

"You're fucking drenched." It was a soft utterance and she didn't have time to say anything before her knickers were pulled to the side, and Pansy licked a strip up her cunt.

Hermione swore. Her head tipped backward, but her legs tensed, nearly shaking.

Pansy whispered how pretty her cunt was as she parted her folds, leaning forward to flick her tongue over Hermione's clit as she trembled.

Glancing down, Hermione saw the knife turn on its side, and watched—enthralled—as her girlfriend slid it between the elastic of her knickers and her skin.

"That shouldn't be as hot as it is," Hermione rolled her hips forward and then—

"Oh, shit."

The source of the stinging was found on her right side where the knife had dipped a little _too_ low, and there was a small cut.

Tiny, really.

" _Parkinson!"_

Dark hair fell onto Pansy's face, and it did nothing to hide the smirk that formed there. "It's not my fault. You're the one who pushed your cunt toward me like a needy, desperate little—"

"So, it's my fault? _You_ cut _me!"_

"It could be worse." Pansy kissed the inside of one of her thighs. And then the other.

"You aren't the one bleeding."

"You'll live, stop whining." She rolled her eyes. "Fine, do you want to cut me to make it even?"

Hermione whispered, "I think you'd like that too much."


	24. Chapter 24

No matter what anyone says—or thinks, for that matter—Hermione Granger does not like Draco Malfoy.

She does not.

In fact, she clings to this falsified truth so vehemently so stubbornly in an effort to make herself believe it. Maybe their peers have a point, and maybe she _could_ like him.

If only he weren't such a prat.

But he is.

A prat, that is.

Still, she finds herself looking forward to patrolling the corridors with him at night, or making the patrol schedules for the prefects. Even if she continues to tell her friends that it's only because they have to work together.

Hermione never expects for it to come to a head, but such is her luck. Minutes after curfew—so late that even they can't get away with it—Filch nearly catches them.

A weak protest passes her lips when he steers them into a deserted classroom, and before she can think—before she can tell him to _move_ —his lips are hard over hers.

It's anything but soft, and her fingers tighten in the front of his robes as his knee presses between her thighs, rising until she's grinding against it before she can process what's really going on.

To Hermione, it just feels like it's taken forever to get here.

"He should be gone." Malfoy rasps.

But still, they stay in that classroom until they lose track of time entirely.

It's a week later that she's spent avoiding him, that Hermione can't ignore him anymore. She wonders if anyone's noticed that she's stopped insisting there's more to their relationship, but she's sure Malfoy has.

The match between Slytherin and Gryffindor is long awaited, and she wears a slip of green ribbon, tied around her wrist.

And maybe no one else sees that, but he does.

She'll talk to him after the match, Hermione decides.

Unfortunately, as she's said for several years at that point, quidditch is a terribly dangerous sport.

A bludger narrowly misses Goyle—who swerves out of the way just in time—and slams into Malfoy as his first hers close around the snitch.

While she knows she did it, Hermione doesn't remember running down the stands. Or reaching Malfoy after pushing her way through the throng of his teammates.

Still, she remembers him lifting his head up, his fingers still closed around the snitch. "Here," he murmurs. "You can have this."

It's cool in the center of her palm. "Malfoy—"

He's out of it, she knows and his head falls to the side when he asks if this is heaven.

"Judging by your presence here, I can only assume it's hell."

"You wound me, Granger. So, I am dead?"

She snorts and her shoulders shake with laughter. "Definitely not. You can't be free of us so easily."

"Ah, so you finally admit there's an us then?"

Punching him in the shoulder—however lightly—probably isn't the best idea.

But she promises to kiss him to make it better.


	25. Chapter 25

" **Are you bleeding?" "We don't have time to deal with it. I'll be fine."**

Time Turners were nasty business, Hermione was sure of it now. It had been a mistake to carry her own broken version from her third year out of a heavy sense of nostalgia for simpler times. For when the worst thing she had to do was help Harry help Sirius. It felt like such a long time ago-and she supposed it _had_ been a long time ago-but at the same time, it felt like not a day had passed since.

It had been one hundred and twenty-three days since she had been met with a curse that she didn't know the name of in the final battle.

One hundred and twenty three days since she'd been flung backward in the same courtyard she'd woken up in, with time turner warped against her chest, the fragments of it digging into her chest.

The memory surged up, reaching out to sink into her, and she remembered cracking one eye open, and croaking, " _Is it over?"_

The head boy had looked at her oddly, tilted his head to the side as if he couldn't quite figure her out, and she'd known from the second he introduced himself that she'd have been better off if she were dead.

Tom Riddle.

The source of all the pain she'd been through had stood over her, lips turned up into a smile, but that smile hadn't reached his eyes. As the days wore on-in light of Professor Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet announcing a new student, taking refuge from the war-she had come to realize that Riddle had everyone fooled.

Except for her, that was.

The tragedy was that he so obviously knew it.

oOo

She tried not to stand out. Earning his curiosity was not something she wanted to do, but Hermione could see that she'd already done so merely by existing. She was a puzzle.

And he liked to know things.

Sharing nearly every class with him didn't make it any less difficult to avoid him, and at the end of a Defence lesson, Hermione knew that it was of little use.

Abraxas Malfoy wasn't nearly as terrible as his pointy-faced grandson, but he _was_ better with a wand, and a brutal hex had splintered the protective shield. It snaked through, and met the inside of her forearm as she turned.

While Professor Merrythought said nothing, it was obvious the spell was dark in nature, and the cursed wound on her arm opened it.

Beneath the thick fabric of her sleeve, she could feel it open, and knew it had began to bleed. However, when everyone else began to shuffle out, Riddle made his way to her, brows drawn in concern.

It was bloody terrifying for it to look genuine.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione didn't spare him a glance as she stepped around him, but fingers closed around her arm and she paused. "Let me go," she squeezed her eyes shut. "Please."

He ignored her, and stepped in front of her before raising her opposite arm.

" _Don't,"_ she hissed, but he rolled up her sleeve anyway and there it was.

There was an unmistakable shakiness in his tone when his murmured, "You're bleeding."

"We don't have time to deal with this. The next class will be coming soon, and I'll be fine."

He laid his hand over the wound, flexing his fingers, and just as she opened her mouth to snap at him, the pain vanished as quickly as it had come.

"That was certainly dark magic."

His hand remained, warm.

Hermione swallowed.

He left her there, but at the edge of the classroom, Tom stopped. "If you wanted to remove it entirely…"

Then he really did leave her, and she wasn't sure what to think, but Hermione knew her heart was pounding.


End file.
